


Mechanic at Stony Creek

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-27
Updated: 2002-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-11 05:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11141904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Post call of the wild hurt/comfort





	Mechanic at Stony Creek

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Mechanic at Stony Creek

## Mechanic at Stony Creek

by Shedoc

Disclaimer: I don't own them - but I'll form a syndicate to buy 'em. Any takers? <g>

Author's Notes: un beta'd - first slash in this fandom, no flames please

Story Notes: I beat up on RayK but good, but it's ok because he comes out on top (no pun intended) Other stuff to come for Stony Creek if no one hates this one.

* * *

Prologue 

* * *

I knew going in that the people I'd meet and the friends and family that I'd inherit weren't really mine. I'd have to give them back once the gig was over - once the real Ray Vecchio returned from his assignment a hero. 

They warned me that I'd have to work with a Mountie and a wolf, and Vecchio himself came and saw me to make sure that I knew these two in particular were special people and to be taken care of. Then he warned me about the way they both seemed to attract trouble - and he was dead right, they were regular trouble magnets. 

But Constable Benton Fraser - or Fraser to his friends, and Benny to Vecchio - was also a really decent guy. He was easy to be friends with - the kind of guy that is infuriating and smart and exasperating and just plain freaky but underneath all that a friendly guy. I started out sort of liking him, moved straight into really liking him, and somewhere along the way I kinda fell in love. The kind of love where you want to get naked and make like crazed weasels under the covers for the rest of your natural life. 

Unfortunately, Constable Benton Fraser was as straight as he was tall and well built - which is very. So I left it at really good friends, and if I made like a crazed weasel in my dreams at night then I didn't let on to him. No point in freaking the Canadian out. He'd probably have some kind of Inuit story to cover the situation and then quietly get himself a transfer. And seeing as how Vecchio would be pissed if I ran his friend the Mountie off I kept my trap shut and my mind on the job. 

I think that Diefenbaker - Fraser's deaf wolf - probably figured it out. He liked me a lot though and didn't say anything to Constable Benton Fraser - Frase to me. 

Then Vecchio comes back and all hell breaks loose. We almost break his cover, and then he does to save Fraser's life when that jerk face Muldoon tries to shoot Frase. God that scared the hell out me - I couldn't do anything to stop it. From the moment that Vecchio showed up he started with the possessive `give back my life and my friend and my family' stuff. Don't get me wrong - he had a tough assignment and his cover wasn't some sweet and light deal. It makes sense that he wanted his old life back and I was the one who had it. 

I didn't mind giving him back his job, though Welsh could probably have found me a place at the 2-7 if I asked him to. And Ma Vecchio wasn't likely to just shut me out of her house, I fixed the boiler better than Vecchio could and she got to feed me - I've got a fast metabolism and never seem to gain weight, though she's certainly tried her best to make me. I didn't want to just give back Fraser though. We'd never talked about what would happen when Vecchio came back - he wouldn't have wanted to risk a breach in security and I was too shit scared to find out. But like I said before, I loved the guy and giving him up was gonna hurt. 

I was hurting anyway - his face went so dead when Vecchio was shot - like he'd been hit too and was slowly bleeding to death inside. All I could do was get him to the hospital and then go get Ma and Frannie so they could be here in case things went to shit. Tony and Angie came too, leaving the kids with the neighbours and I was glad that his family was there for him. I fetched and carried coffee and snacks and tried to stay out of the way. 

Then Frase came out of Vecchio's room. We knew he'd probably live at that point and at this point I was only waiting around so I could tell him I was going after the guys responsible. He was hurting, and when he looked up at me I suddenly wanted to get it over with. Being shit scared was no excuse - I had to know if he was going to let me give him back or if he was going to let me stay around. So I blurted out something stupid about did he still want a partner and he said four words that saved my life. 

"If you'll have me." 

I wanted to kiss him, but I chickened out and just said something suitably guy like and we got on with the job. 

Well to cut a long story short, we nearly died, but we got our man in true Mountie fashion and Vecchio got out of hospital in very short order. We were finishing the last of the paperwork on the whole sorry mess when I got the news about Stella and Vecchio. 

I think that Frase was just as surprised as me, though I was happy that she was happy. I couldn't see her in a bowling alley, but I figured what the hell - maybe she could do law stuff on the side and it wasn't my business anyway. She called me, and Vecchio called Frase and we were sitting by the fire with Dief curled up against my leg - he'd started doing that after he caught up with us and I wasn't complaining - when Frase turned to me and asked if I wanted to find the Hand of Franklin. 

My first thought was `hell no'. Hang around in all the cold and wet with Frase and no one else around for miles...actually that sounded pretty good on second thought, so I said yes and we started our `quest'. The PD had promised me a six month stretch of leave to `rediscover my identity' when the Vecchio thing was over and Fraser had some long service leave coming so we got a team together and headed off into the wilds. 

Of course, just because we were back in Canada didn't mean that Frase and Dief stopped attracting trouble, so between learning to survive out in the freaking wilderness and looking for the Hand and hunting down the stupid dopes that were dumb enough to cross our path we wasted three months together. I learned to survive and handle a dog sled - to Frase's surprise I was pretty good at it. I wasn't surprised; I was plain old shocked stupid. 

About two weeks into the whole survival-training thing I realised that I wasn't the only one trying to figure out if our friendship was solid. Fraser was trying too - he no longer had to help maintain Vecchio's cover and I guess in a way it was a relief for him. We learned a lot about each other and I learned a lot about myself. Fraser was so damn patient with me, especially when I fucked up, that after a while I got used to the whole idea that he wasn't just humouring me and wanted me around. 

Dief stuck pretty close too. I was too damn grateful that the wolf didn't mind me being around to care. I ended up talking to him just like Frase did - in fact we cracked the Mountie up once our twice with our discussions. We even argued over this and that - though when he was losing Dief would knock me into the snow and roll me over. Frase would take sides as the mood struck him, and sometimes he just stayed out of it. 

Three months into the quest we got snowed in at a little town called Stony Creek and we started a new phase of our friendship. There was a two-man Mountie post there, and they were down a man so the Sergeant was happy to see Fraser and me. I was surprised about that at first, then realised that I'd gained a bit of a rep with the RCMP as Fraser's American partner. Anyway Fraser went back on active duty at his superior's request and we stayed in the RCMP barracks while we waited for the thaw. 

I helped out around the post a little and went out with Fraser when he needed the backup, though I wasn't allowed to carry a gun. It was a bit mind bending to have Fraser cover my unarmed ass when things got hot - but he was a damn good shot and I was too grateful to argue. 

Then he and the Sarge - that's what I called him, though his name was Brown - got called out and I got to know the town mechanic. I actually damn near knocked him over in the general store when I was looking for chocolate to put in my coffee. I knocked his box out of his hands and picked it all up again because I was in Canada and people out here are polite. I didn't care what they thought of Americans too much for myself, but didn't want to reflect badly on Frase, so I walked to the garage - more of a workspace attached to the general store and deposited the box where I was told. 

The town mechanic was called Paul Snow and he was older than Yoda off Star Wars. He was just as smart and cunning too - you could see it in his eyes. He was a grumpy old freak that had a temper fiercer than Ma Vecchio's and a tongue sharper than Stella. He asked me a couple of questions and I told him about the GTO and how I could always get her humming sweetly. He challenged me to prove it on a hunk of junk in the corner and I took him up on it. Three days of blood sweat and tears later I got it to purr for me and he just clapped me on the back and asked me to help out with a snowplough. 

Snowy - as I called him to his wincing annoyance - took me around town after that to help out on his `house calls'. Between us we must have seen every damn engine in the town and almost everything in a twenty-mile radius. By the time Frase and Sarge got back I'd made a few acquaintances and was bartering my services when Snowy was too busy. Frase gave me that small smile that he usually reserved for big things, like saving a busload of nuns, and my damn fool heart did the happy dance all over again. 

Things ended for us at Stony Creek. By the time the thaw came my leave was almost up. Fraser's superiors informed him that they wanted him to take a post further north and I couldn't bear to tell him not to take it. He'd regained that serene edge that I saw in his eyes the first time we met, just after he'd got back from his time in Toronto. He loved being out here and it was better for him. I figured it wasn't fair to drag him back to Chicago when he hated the place so much and congratulated him with Sarge on the new posting. 

He decided to take the team overland to his new post and I got up early for a final breakfast with him. Dief and I had our last conversation and Fraser laughed at us a couple of times, though he was a little quiet. I promised him that I was going back to Chicago, and if I changed my mind I'd leave word at the Consulate there for him. We shook hands and he left. Dief kept glancing back, but Frase never did. A small part of me hoped it was because this was hurting him as much as it was hurting me, but I told myself to shut up and get on with it. 

Snowy drove me to the airstrip and made me promise to stay in touch. I don't know why, but I did, sending him postcards from Chicago with brief notes. He'd reply - once or twice on a beer coaster. Sometimes there was a message from someone else in town, even the Sarge wrote me once or twice. I started a damn chess game on those postcards, and kept the board set up next to the turtle's tank. In a way it was nice to know that someone in Canada was thinking about me. Frase and I never wrote. 

The 2-7 took me back in. Major Crimes was like coming home in a way the 1-8 had never been. Those guys and gals were like family and weren't at all fazed by the idea that `Vecchio' was now calling himself `Kowalski'. Ma Vecchio kept inviting me to Sunday lunch and Welsh kept sending me to the Consulate if a liaison officer was needed. My parents moved out of the damn trailer and into a house. Ma Vecchio got to know them too, and you don't know the meaning of misery until you catch a cold and your Polish and Italian mothers are beating down your door with home cooked remedies. Both are concerned that I'm too thin, but I just don't seem to keep the weight on. Even the department doctors tell me to put weight on. 

I was ok. I wasn't great, but most days I was good. The empty place where Frase had been was a manageable ache and the work at the 2-7 kept me busy enough not to have to think about it all. Every now and then Turnbull would send me extracts from the monthly bulletins about Frase - mainly about his arrest rate and how many poachers he'd caught single-handed with a roll of dental floss or something - and I'd get depressed. But then something always came up and I'd get back up and keep going. 

* * *

Chapter One

Then it all went to shit. I can't say much about what happened - though I still wake screaming from the nightmares every freaking night and twice on Sunday's - but when it was all over I was left in hospital minus my right leg below the knee. As soon as I was coherent enough to understand what had happened I made the doctors and nurses promise not to let any visitors in, and made Welsh spread the word that I didn't want anyone calling Fraser or anyone else about the whole freaking mess. I spoke to my parents once a week on the phone, and even spoke to Ma Vecchio once, but basically I became a hermit right there in the damn hospital. I can't tell you why I did it - though I knew that my parents at least loved me. 

I went to therapy and worked my ass off, determined not to be a freaking burden on anyone. I didn't want or need anyone's pity or help. Even though they tried to get a shrink to talk to me - actually they tried seven before they got the message and gave up - I kept it all inside. I hated that I was damaged like this and I hated that the damn job had taken my life away from me. I refused the fucking medal they wanted to give me - like it would make a fucking difference - and told the press to go piss up a rope. 

I already knew that I wasn't going back to the PD. There was no damn way that I was going to work behind a desk, promotion or not. Hell, even if by some miracle I could retrain and take a field position in the PD, it would be a support role like forensics or something. I hated being left behind, and I knew that being a community policeman - the fancy pants title they gave cops who did the public speaking and education circuit - wasn't for me either. I'm not patient enough for that. Even the Academy wouldn't be any good - supposing they'd have me. I'm not a teacher like Fraser, I'd be more likely to just flunk `em than try and help out. 

In an effort to try and see me more often my parents were bringing my mail to the hospital. They usually ended up leaving it at the nurse's station, especially once I started locking myself in the bathroom. It's kinda hard to explain why I didn't want to see them. I guess I didn't want to see the pity or disgust in their eyes. The nursing staff was bad enough, though there was one girl who was totally indifferent to the stump that she had to clean and bandage. I couldn't bear to look at it myself and she would usually ask me questions about Canada to distract me. I really liked her, and we've stayed in touch over the years. 

Two things saved me from eating my back up weapon. Well, three if you count the fact that it was in my apartment and not in the hospital with me. The first was my `technician' and the second was Snowy. 

My `tech' was a sassy woman with a no nonsense attitude. She was the one responsible for measuring what was left below my knee - not much - and designing prosthesis for me. She wore her long hair in twin plaits and had a way of making me feel like it was perfectly normal for her to be touching the place where my leg used to be. She got me measured, she got me fitted and she got me through the rehab - and let me tell you I was a right pain in the arse while she did it. 

Instead of the plastic foot and metal brace that I was expecting she fitted me with what I call a suction cup and a bent coat hanger. The prosthesis was flat metal that was very strong and very light weight. The foot was little more than a fold in the metal that doubled back to rest on a flat plate. 

"It's like the one the Olympian's use in the athletics events. It's got enough give to compensate for your ankle and let you move around fairly quickly," she told me the first time she brought it in. I told her she was loony tunes if she thought I was gonna wear something like that and she got in my face about it all. After weeks of people tiptoeing around the issue it was kind of a relief to have someone push me back. 

I have to admit it felt weird, learning to walk all over again. She was patient though, and told me off if I whined too much. In a way she got further with me than the shrink, especially when I lost it and told her she had no fucking idea what it was like to lose a leg. She simply pulled up her trousers and showed me her left leg - it was the same as my right. 

"I was eighteen and my boyfriend lost it on an icy road," was all she said. She knew how I'd lost mine - hell it was in the papers, not to mention my medical files - and we didn't discuss that. Instead we talked about the changes she'd had to make in her life after the accident. I've wondered once or twice about her - she knew a lot about the process of grieving and adjustment - more than if she'd just gone through it herself and listened to the shrinks. I found out later she was a double doctor - a PhD in psychiatry as well as biomechanics. She worked out of the university hospital and was so damn sneaky about it that when I found out years later all I could do was feel the respect and gratitude she deserved. 

Snowy saved me with a letter. He was ready to retire but wanted someone to take over his `business'. None of his kids knew anything about engines - I got the feeling that they weren't talking to him anyway. You don't ask that kind of a question - or if you do you don't expect an answer. Snowy was planning to head out to live with his sister in Owl Creek - almost on the other side of the country. He'd said once that if I wanted a job to come and see him - now he was asking for real. 

I managed to bribe the bursar into charging an international call to my account - the city was paying my bills anyway and could just shut up about it - and got through to Snowy after about an hour of trying one place or another. He said he could wait for me for a couple of weeks and I pretty much hung up plotting my escape straight away. 

To say my parents and friends were less than pleased was an understatement. To my astonishment, Turnbull turned out to be very useful, getting the paperwork I needed done with little fuss, though he had a wistful kind of look about him when I came in to get it. I was walking again by then, and damn glad to be out of the hospital. Welsh had offered to chauffeur me around on his day off and we spent the time not arguing about it while I got my life packed up to go and live in Canada. Between the pension from the PD and the payout from the City I was ok financially for the next few years, especially if I watched my spending. 

They chucked me a huge `look who's alive/leaving' party the night before I was due to leave. Half the 2-7 was there, and even the Ice Queen showed up. She pissed me off when she asked if I wanted her to tell Fraser what had happened and left not long after. Turnbull already had the letter that he was supposed to send if Fraser tried to contact me, though I didn't think it was likely any more. 

Which is how I came to live in Stony Creek as the general mechanic come jack of all trades. Snowy left pretty much the day after I arrived and I managed to live in the back of the garage for a few days before Ed Smallpeace offered to sell me the cabin he'd built on the edge of town when he was going to get married. His intended bride had run off with a fur trapper and Ed had decided to remain living with his parents. 

* * *

The cabin was ok - two bedrooms, a bathroom and a large living area that had a kitchen come laundry tucked in one corner. I had electricity, cable TV and even a phone. The heat came from a fireplace in the middle of the room - it was round, believe it or not, like the ones you see witches and wizards using in cheesy TV shows. It chucked out more than enough heat, and there was a furnace as well for the bitter cold parts of winter. 

Not that I got to spend any time there the first two months. Sasha Rose from the General Store took one look at me when she got back from her monthly shopping trip and made me sleep in her spare room while the entire town lined up to push four course meals down my throat. I mean, sure, I was underweight and all - the dieticians at the hospital hated me to death `cos I never gained weight on their marvellously balanced and healthy but disgusting diet. It felt like they'd cut off my appetite with my leg. I was never hungry but forced myself to eat what they put in front of me in order to avoid getting my dinner through a tube or something. 

The whole town mothered me and for some reason it didn't seem too bad. Sarge asked me to help him keep the dogs fit - that's how I first found out I could still handle a team and walk in snow shoes, though it was way harder than before. 

The new guy on post - he was called that for a long time - was polite enough, but I got the feeling that he didn't fit into the town too well. People used to wait until Sarge was available rather than talking to him - which must have sucked big time. I'd managed to arrive in late spring and a few of the local guys asked me to help with framing extensions and stuff - winter meant people stayed inside longer, which led to an explosion in the birth rate if you get my meaning. 

I learned that the stuff I'd done in woodwork in high school was good anywhere and I could climb a ladder if I was careful. I became pretty adept at juggling the schedule between the mechanic side of the business and unskilled labour everywhere else. The fact that Snowy had hand picked me to take his job helped a lot - people accepted me for his sake at first, and eventually for my own. 

They saved me those people - dragged me out of bed fucking early to go to work and kept me up so damn late that I slept right through without waking, sometimes not even dreaming. They force fed me - something my mothers back in Chicago would have appreciated no end and then backed off once they were sure I could do it myself. They even knew enough to let me fall on my ass a couple of times - forcing me to ask for the help I needed, rather than just forcing the help. The more I stood on my own two feet - or foot if ya want to be anal about it - the better I felt about the world. By the time they agreed to release me back to the wild - or rather my cabin - it was winter and I was once more a decent human being, fit for the company of others. 

Some of the local girls had made interested noises in my direction, which I ignored. The only person I wanted in my bed wasn't likely to ever be there, and I felt too much of a freak to let them see me naked anyway. There were other scars on my body, not just the amputation, and I didn't want to get into how it all happened. No one asked and I never volunteered, so things were cool. 

Stony Creek was along the pipeline, so every few weeks we got a crew of roughnecks - the guys who worked the line - into town. Whenever a crew showed up I went to the local bar/diner and helped out in there. Ralf and Mandy Croft worked the place, and Mandy would stay behind the bar while I cleared the tables and collected empties as well as acting as waiter. That saved her from getting her ass pinched by the crews and Ralf getting a broken bottle or glass in his face when he went after the crews for pinching her in the first place. Sarge had used to do that job, but it was hard for him to keep it and the post running with the new guy needing directions to blow his nose. He was a bit like Turnbull in a way, and I kinda felt sorry for him. This was his first posting and I think he was missing the attractions of the larger cities. 

The diner was set up like a restaurant with the bar along the back wall and the kitchen just off that. The local families that came to the diner part could sit to one side out of the way of the drinkers - though the families with little kids avoided the place when the crews were in. It was a good chance for me to line up more work - and also a chance to talk to people in general. 

Not all the roughnecks were bad - we had a few crews go through that were quiet - kept to themselves mostly. A few noisy ones that were hell bent on drinking the town dry and never succeeded. On the whole things were ok. I shoulda figured out that by the time I get used to something - by the time I got a handle on things they go straight to shit. I musta been an axe murderer or something in my previous life, `cos I can't think of anything I did in this one that was bad enough to make God hate me. 

It started with one of the local girls. She was a bit free and easy with her charms if you know what I mean - she was just this side of standing on a street corner. Not that you could out here - it was way too cold. I guess that we kept a special eye on her - no one liked to see her get in trouble and I guess that gave her a sense of security. That didn't mean she deserved what happened, but in a way it was all kinda inevitable. 

Anyway Mary-Sue was in the bar part of the diner that night when the latest crew rolled on in. They seemed ok at first - a bit loud and demanding, but not so bad that I was worried about it all. Mary-Sue was in there flirting as usual. She was just legal, so they fed her a bunch of beers and she sat on the lap of the crew boss - a guy called Jimmy Walker. He was a big man, and loud with it. He kept her giggling and he had a hand up in her crotch kinda, but she was just being Mary-Sue, and so we warned them about the family audience and left it at that. Her folks came in sometimes, and that usually made her behave herself better. 

So her folks arrive - I think they had an inkling of what was going on and wanted to do right by their kid. She squirms off Walker's lap and sits beside him almost demure, hanging onto his hand instead. Walker's not the sharpest tack in the pin board and objects to the change in position. He gets kinda insistent, and Ralf heads on over while I'm serving dinner to Sasha Rose and her husband Henry. Mary-Sue's dad heads over too, and the next thing I know there's some yelling and the old guy goes flying while Walker's crew surrounds Ralf. 

"Go get Sarge," I tell Sasha - though Mandy was already on the phone while the families with kids got the hell out. I grab a pool cue from the table and gimp on over, whacking my way through the crew and using the bent coat hanger to stomp on Walker's foot in order to get his attention. Mary-Sue's was sobbing with her hand to her face and blood running between her fingers. I see the broken glass she got smacked with and use the pool cue to get Walker in a headlock. 

The next thing I know I'm reciting the Miranda - though it's got nothing to do with Canada - in a kind of unconscious reflex. It sounds authoritative enough to hold the situation in place until Sarge and the new guy turn up to arrest Walker properly. Mary-Sue is rushed over to the clinic - the doc's are flown in once a month and we've got some nurses who live out here to render initial aid and treatment. I stay in the diner with Ralf and Mandy, helping clean up and making sure that the roughnecks that weren't arrested don't hang around. 

When the diner's closed I stop by the post to see what the Sarge is gonna do with Walker. He tells me that they're gonna transfer him the day after tomorrow to be held over for trial. The cells at the post are for short term only, but Sarge thinks the guy will make trouble if we bail him here, so he's being sent on to court in the larger town that's about a day away from us. 

I figure that's the end of it as I give my statement and Sarge puts his hand on my shoulder as I gimp towards the door. It's like getting a pat on the back from your dad - you feel proud that you lived up to his expectations. Even though I'm way too old to be feeling that way, and am some kind of a freak for even thinking it, I grin at him and head for home. 

Next day I'm working on the sled that the clinic nurses use to visit their closer patients when I hear the shots. I grab hold of the nearest piece of firewood and head out to the street, keeping my head down and shuffling along awkwardly as my nerves jangle and fire like those damn dogs and the bell. I've been a cop too long to be stupid, and look out into the street cautiously as the sound of a different gun sounds. 

I spot the official jeep from the post in the street, and the crumpled red figure in front of it would seem to indicate that one of my friends has been hit. My stomach clenches in an ugly manner as the uninjured Mountie - I can't tell who it is - returns fire from inside the post. 

The roughnecks are out there, holed up behind another vehicle - one of the trucks used to transport gear and supplies I guess - and they've only got three rifles between them. I curse under my breath and wiggle back around the corner. I find myself some rocks out of the garden that the nurses have set up alongside the clinic - though at the moment there's nothing growing in it - and go back to my place as the roughnecks start yelling about letting their leader go. I fish out my glasses and put them on, and then let fly with the three rocks as quick as I can. 

I hit two of the guys with a rifle and shatter a window with the third rock. The guy that's still conscious yells and turns to fire at me when who ever it is in the post fires again and wings him hard enough for the fucker to drop the damn rifle. I'm out and running as fast as I can, kicking the rifles out into the street and slamming my fist into the guy who's now bleeding hard and yelling loudly about police brutality. Then I'm on my knees beside the red serge. 

It's Sarge and he's choking on pink frothy blood. I know that's bad from Chicago - I've seen cops die from it and civilians too. I lift him up onto my lap so he can breath and put pressure on the wound, trying to seal it with my hand so he can get some lung function back. He moans and opens his eyes slowly, gasping up at me. His lips move but he can't talk, and his eyes are full of questions. 

"We got them - it's all under control," I tell him, as the new guy finishes securing the cuffs on his prisoners while the nurses do a rough field dressing and check that they're all still breathing, "Take it easy Sarge. We'll get you into the clinic and you'll be fine. There's help on the way." 

I can see in his eyes that he doesn't expect to be here when it arrives and it pisses me off for a moment. I can't lose another friend, they help me to exist out here and I have to hang on so tightly to what's left of me that for a moment I'm feeling the same kind of pain that Sarge is. 

"Stay here, Sarge," I growl, "Don't you fucking die on me. We need you, dammit." 

He smiles at me and one hand rests on mine above his wound. I kinda choke up at that - he's saying goodbye and I know it, but I don't want to lose my friend. He's meant a lot to me. In a scary way it's like I'm losing Fraser - I look up to both of them like some kind of hero, though I love Frase in a way that I could never imagine with Sarge. At the same time I see his understanding. He'll fight this - the agony, and the crippling injury to stay if I tell him to. I can't be that cruel - Sarge is like one of those wild animals I've tracked along the pass - beautiful in freedom, pathetic in captivity. I can't force him to live like me. 

"God, Sarge," I whisper, "I'm gonna miss you so much. Thank you for everything." 

His hand tightens over mine for a long moment and all the noise and fuss in the world just goes away. For a bit we're alone in the universe, and it's like we're hearing everything the other has left unsaid. I smile at him and nod once, get a faint smile in return and then he becomes a leaden weight in my arms as the light and warmth leaves his eyes. After a minute his hand falls away and I rock him gently to me in farewell before looking up into the eyes of the head nurse. I shake my head and she closes his eyes tenderly. I close my eyes as they take him out of my arms and get up slowly, stumbling in the snow. 

As soon as I can move again I head into the post to help the new guy secure his prisoners and wait for reinforcements. 

* * *

What's that phrase they use? `All over bar the shouting' - that's how it was with us two days later. The roughnecks were gone - locked the fuck up and outta our hair - and Sarge was being sent home for burial in the family plot. Turns out he had fifteen brothers and sisters and a large extended family. Who knew? 

The extra Mounties that seem to show up in an emergency and then disappear again...disappeared and we were left waiting for Sarge's replacement. He's due to get here in two or three weeks time - they've got just the guy in mind apparently but he's out of contact at the moment and they don't wanna say anything until they've told him so we're kinda in limbo here. 

And while we're waiting the new guy sits alone in the post and the town brings any problems they've got to me. Normally I'd have just let it be and done the job - once a cop always a cop and I can do what's needed, damaged or not - but one of the unspoken things in Sarge's eyes was for me to take care of the new guy. I realise one night with a start that I don't even know his full name. I mean he's Constable Stevens - I know that much - but I don't know his first name or anything about him - not even if he likes curling. 

So I start taking him lunch and dinner every day, and sit down and discuss the work with him `cos even though I know he can do the job I want him to get out into the community a bit more and he ain't gonna do that sitting in the post. And I take the opportunity during one of those discussions to ask what his first name is. 

"Stephen," he says and the green eyes darken a little in embarrassment. Jesus on a stick - his parents called him Stephen Stevens? What did they call his sister? Uh oh - not good. I said that last bit out loud and he goes kinda red - like I'm poking fun at him. 

"Stephanie," the answer is painful and I shut my mouth firmly. I am NOT going to laugh at this guy. Nor am I gonna ask if he's got anyone else at home - the whole idea is freaking me right out. 

"So, Steve, call me Ray," I tell him casually - he's still calling me sir or Mr Kowalski, though I don't usually answer to that last one. Sounds too much like my dad. 

"Thank you kindly," Steve replies and the red fades, as we get right back into the possible paths a suspected poacher might be using. Since I moved here I've been keeping the post dog team exercised and trained - I loved mushing when I was on the quest (once I'd gotten the hang of it) and Sarge didn't mind lending the dogs to me for some of my runs out to distant jobs. Damaged as I was I'd been disqualified from driving, though I could manage automatics ok. I wasn't going to get a special hand control car fitted up for out here - or anywhere else for that matter - it was too damn embarrassing. The use of the sled means I'm mobile and have a good idea of the region - there are no road signs so I've learnt where the dangers and shortcuts are. 

Steve isn't a dog man - he has a hesitant touch on the sled that the dogs resent. I've seen them refuse paths that they'd take with me, and I've often packed him in as the passenger when we had to go anywhere. Even Sarge said I was `very useful' with the dogs, which was `fucking good' in Chicago speak. I didn't let it go to my head - there are plenty people around here that are better than me, and I make no bones about it. 

So Steve and I start doing patrol together and we nail the poacher pretty damn quick. We work well together and I manage to get him a little more involved in the community. My main ally in this is Sasha Rose and her husband. By use of some outright begging I manage to get Sasha interested in asking Steve over to share the once-a-week family dinner that she's enforcing under threat of moving me out of my cabin and back into her spare room. I'm still a little too skinny for the weather here - not enough body fat to combat the cold, and when I catch the flu it really knocks me on my ass - so she started this routine in order to make sure I was eating. I eat about a weeks rations in one meal and Steve comes in for some mothering when he confesses that he can't cook to save his life. Literally. Turns out he almost starved to death on a weeklong march because he couldn't get his rations prepared `adequately'. I take this to mean he was eating them raw. 

Sasha pulls me aside after that first dinner - Steve's been ordered to come in twice a week, and she said that I'd better come too so he wouldn't feel uncomfortable - for a Canadian she's damn sneaky, I know that it's the other way around and she's trying to feed me up again - and tells me I'm a better man than her. 

That makes me laugh so hard I almost fall over and she glares at me as if she's reconsidering my baking allotment. I sober up pretty fast then - Sasha's scones are too good to risk. I also wanted it clear that I wasn't all that good - if Sarge hadn't asked me... 

"I kinda promised Sarge," I told her, "He was worried, you know he was." 

"Sarge," her face softened, "He's tried ever since Constable Stevens arrived to get the boy to loosen up and come out more. You've succeeded. Be proud, honey. I am." 

Damn - not another mother. She ever comes to Chicago and I'm toast. I grin and kiss her cheek - like I did my mom's and Ma Vecchio's as well - and head out with my bag of baking to walk Steve back to the post and myself home. 

When we get there the computer - yeah I was surprised too - is making its polite email noise so I hang around in case it's something about our new Sergeant. Steve looks up at me after a moment with a big grin on his face and a lot of the tension eased in his eyes. I feel kinda bad that I didn't notice it until it was gone, but what can you do. 

"What - did you get promoted?" it's that kind of a grin, and I'm grinning along in sympathy. His eyes widen and he shakes his head real fast. Steve's not an ambitious guy - it shows too. He's not lazy or careless or anything, and he's really very thorough on the job, but he also seems content with what he has. I think he's happy to take orders, though he's no yes man. We've disagreed over the past week and a bit and he sticks to his guns. 

"Oh no - I'm not due for promotion for years to come," Steve tells me earnestly, "It's the new post commander. We're getting Sergeant Fraser. Your old partner." 

I'm shocked, I have to admit it, and I sit down hard. Frase, here? Where he can see my damage and me? God, how can I handle that? I mean the guy is the love of my life and I've never told him that. What if he pities me? 

Steve chanting my name while trying to force a chocolate-laced cup of coffee on me finally breaks through and I wake up just enough to take the cup and calm him down. He crouches in front of me and I grab his shoulder. 

"I never told him about me being damaged," I blurt out, "Hell I cut my whole freaking family off. Don't tell him ok? I'll have to do it, but not straight away..." 

"I promise," Steve said solemnly, gaining a friend for life," I won't tell him." 

* * *

Fraser's stuff is shipped up to us by plane - and I grin at the dilapidated trunk that used to belong to his father. His clothes and mementoes and a whole box of books and they all end up at my place because...well because I take them there and the whole damn town just seems to assume that we'll be sharing living quarters. 

He's coming in by dog team - his father's animals that taught me how to sled. He wants to get an idea of the territory - that's what he says in the email he sent Steve and I grin at him. He's been scrubbing the post from top to bottom and refining everything in the archives like the Queen's about to drop in and check it. 

I set up Fraser's desk from the boxes of stuff there and the supplies in the post. I manage to get it looking just like the one in the consulate and I go put a bowl down for Dief in the usual spot, after warning Steve that it's going there. Despite our best efforts Steve is still a little on the outer limits of the community, though Sasha is rooting for him now and that goes a long way out here. Steve's worried about it until I point out that I'm going to be known as the guy who took over from Snowy for the rest of my life. He calms down a little after that and manages to beg Sasha for some of those oatmeal and raisin cookies that the whole town love. Fraser liked the too I remember and I guess Steve wants to make a good impression on his new boss, though I'll be rooting for him. 

The stuff that I took home goes in the spare room - the trunk at the foot of the bed where it always goes and the books out on my shelves, though I made sure that he would be able to find them. I even stow his clothes away for him. I figure it can't get any more welcoming than that and settle down to fret my dumb heart out while I'm waiting. I feel like I've got a second chance to make him see me in the context of crazed weasels here, but do I want him to look at me that hard? He'll be seeing the damaged remnant that used to be Detective Kowalski of the 2-7 as well. I'm not too proud of that guy. 

* * *

Chapter Two 

As we go up the front steps of the post a quiver runs through Dief so strong it's almost a shudder. I pause at the top step and he looks up at me whining eagerly. 

"Who's here?" I ask him, not understanding what he's trying to say - my wolf has quite a thick accent when excited. Constable Stevens and Dief never formed a close attachment during our brief sojourn here with Ray. The post is still a man down; though my superiors tell me they are still looking for a third man to come out here. I open the door and Dief tracks straight to the left and the bowl of water sitting there as if he was expecting it. 

"Sergeant Fraser!" the constable leaps up and smiles warmly, "Welcome to Stony Creek, sir. Was your journey a pleasant one?" 

"Yes, thank you," I reply politely, "I found it most useful in refreshing my memory of the district." 

Stevens smiles at me and I hang my coat up on the rack along with my Stetson. His uniform is immaculate and what I've seen of the post so far is as well. I turn and head towards my desk, stopping in surprise when I catch sight of it. The layout is exactly like it had been in the Consulate in Chicago and for a moment I have to repress a fierce longing to be back there. I did not enjoy the city, but I loved the people there - or at least one person... 

It didn't take long after the end of our quest for me to realise that what I felt for Stanley Raymond Kowalski was not symbolic or brotherly love. Had I been able to find a way to communicate this to the man I would have done so immediately. When I failed to contrive a way to do that and we lost touch I decided it was for the best and buried the feelings as deeply as I could. I had my duty and that would be enough. 

"I took the liberty of arranging for lunch to be delivered sir," Stevens' voice breaks in on my musings and I make agreeable noises before requesting the reports for the last few weeks. I've barely had a chance to sit down with Stevens and review them when Dief sets up a most unseemly fuss, dancing about the door and yelping like a puppy. 

"Ah lunch," Stevens says blandly over the noise and I repress a sigh. I took the post here when it was offered for the memories it held. Ray and I were happy here together. In addition to which it was a chance to work with a good community, although I expected some difficulties in the form of resentment for the `new man'. 

The door to the post opens and Dief streaks out. Someone steps in quickly and shuts the door, leaning back on it and snickering in amusement as Dief creates a fuss from outside the door now. He's so loud in expressing his displeasure that I make a note to speak to him about professional behaviour on duty and then my eyes take in the person leaning on the door. 

"Ray!" if my voice and expression are unguarded, the slip is worth the pleasure I see in his face and eyes. He's horribly thin, and pale; there's a shadow behind the joy in his eyes that worries me. Before I can say anything else, or do more than get up out of my chair he laughs and uses the name that I`ve missed hearing ever since we separated. 

"Hey Frase," he grins and straightens up a little, "Looking good. I brought lunch." 

"Allow me," Stevens leaps up and hurries over to remove the bags in Ray's thin hands. 

"Probably a good idea Steve - Dief might eat the lot if he knocks me down," Ray rolls his eyes, takes a deep breath and opens the door again. To my dismay Diefenbaker immediately knocks him down and sits on him, whining and licking like an untrained puppy. Ray is laughing and replying to the thousand and one things Dief is telling him in a breathless fashion. For a moment I drink in the sight of my best friend and future life mate reconnecting. Then I move to break it up. Jealousy is an ugly emotion and I refuse to feel it because my wolf gets to stick his tongue in Ray's ear in greeting and I don't. 

Dief is highly reluctant to get off Ray, and Ray is in no hurry to push him aside either, seeming content to be slobbered on. We finally manage to prise Dief away when Ray promises to let Dief sit on the couch with him tonight - informing me casually that my effects are in the spare room of his home and he doesn't intend to release them into my custody. 

I take this as a good sign and don't argue. When he finally gets up - Constable Stevens pulls my partner up off the floor - I see first hand the limp that drags at his right leg. 

"It's why I'm no longer a cop," Ray brushes it off, "I'll tell you later, ok?" 

I know that tone of voice and agree quietly. I can be patient. Ray will tell me later...tonight if I have any say in the matter. We settle down with Dief pressed firmly against Ray's leg and eyeing me significantly. I am unable to decipher his meaning and concentrate on my food instead, shooting little side glances at my sorely missed partner. 

Despite the amount of food he eats at lunch I can see that we are going to have to work harder at increasing his weight. His clothes swim on him - though they were once the right size. Despite the smile on his face and the light tone in his voice he is saddened - almost depressed. He has made friends with Stevens, though the constable has yet to reach the subtle nuances of my friend. He doesn't appear to be in any pain, though he sits still in the chair - a most unusual sight. Ray Kowalski was always restless - sitting with him during a stakeout could be exhausting as he fidgeted and fussed in his seat. I almost decide to ensure that he doesn't walk too far with me today when I notice something else. 

Constable Stevens treats my friend with deference and respect, but also seems to back off when discussing any physical activity. He doesn't push Ray about his limitations - and there must be some if his leg was injured badly enough to disqualify him as a detective. They draw me into a discussion of my sledding team and I realise that Ray is responsible for the one kept at the post. I agree to let Ray continue to use the team when we don't require them for official business and suggest that he take me out to inspect them - in reality a way to get a few moments alone with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. 

* * *

Ray leads the way out the back while Diefenbaker stops to investigate the bowl of water again. The post is designed in a sort of horseshoe shape, with the post forming the bottom part of the shoe, running along the main street. On the left side are the barracks and the cells; on the right side are the garage and storage sheds. The team's kennels are in the back of the garage, and let out into the horseshoe middle. It allows us to have a staging area for the teams and an exercise yard as well. At the moment it is covered in snow, even the walkways. 

I see this in the moment that Ray opens the door and steps forward. He goes down the single step and there is a horrific clanging noise. He stumbles back with a yell and I snatch him to my chest, both arms wrapped around him and holding on tightly. I see with sick horror that a large animal trap has sprung almost closed around his right leg - in fact it is barely open enough to admit the bone between it's jaws. 

Diefenbaker start forward with a whine and Ray yells incoherently, flailing his hand to push Dief back into the post. 

"Steve grab Dief - more traps!" the words take a moment to make sense and then I realise he is warning Stevens to protect my wolf partner from the possibility that more traps have been laid. I am too preoccupied with wondering why there is so little blood gushing from what must be an agonising injury to pay much attention. 

"Ray," I whisper and a hand comes up to pat my arms gently, offering comfort in a way that makes my heart ache. I realise that I am shaking and sweat beads my face as my stomach rolls at the thought of what this is doing to the man I love. 

"It's ok Ben," he says in a very tired voice, "It didn't get my leg." 

For a wild moment I think that he's right - maybe it just caught the material of his pants. Then he shifts and I see his boot inside the trap. Thinking he must be in shock, I turn my head to find Stevens and have him call for help and bring a blanket. He is at my shoulder, his knife out and a sick look in his eyes. 

"You want my knife, Ray?" he calls and Ray shakes his head, sighing heavily and slumping against me. For a moment I tighten my grip, thinking he has finally fainted, but I realise that he is shaking too with some suppressed emotion. 

"I can't balance well enough to bend over," his voice is thick and dry, "You'll have to do it. Cut near the knee..." 

"Ray!" I exclaim, "We should call for medical assistance! Constable..." 

"With all due respect sir, you are not in full possession of the facts. Mr Kowalski is better equipped to handle this," Stevens interrupts and I glare at him. Before I can do or say anything he slips to one side and starts slicing at Ray's trousers near the knee as directed. When he has severed the trouser leg Stevens slams the knife into the wooden step and reaches hesitantly underneath the material. Ray begins to shake harder, and in a very little voice he says, 

"Run your finger around the top to loosen it." 

And the next thing I know my partner is pulling his leg up and there's a noise and he's pushing back so hard I sort of stumble back. Ray makes a hopping motion and joins me on the step, leaving behind... 

I swallow hard. The bottom of the trouser leg gapes obscenely around the prosthesis and I suddenly understand what Dief was trying to say with those long looks. He was leaning against that limb. The thought that Ray was injured so badly that he'd lost a leg and never told me about it causes my mouth to override my brain and my feelings to override my control. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" I blurt and feel Ray tense within my embrace. I pull him even closer and shiver at the implications. I could have lost him and never known. 

Stevens opens the door and then comes back to stand by my partner. Ray puts a hand on Stevens shoulder, and accepts the one wound around his waist. He hops into the post, the empty trouser leg flapping in gruesome reminder. 

"With your permission sir, I'll go up to Ray's cabin and retrieve a few items," Constable Stevens doesn't even wait for my permission, he's out the door as soon as Ray is seated in the chair he occupied for lunch. 

Ray won't meet my eyes; he seems focussed entirely on Dief's ear as he rubs his too thin hands into the ruff of silver fur at the wolf's neck. I begin to understand his presence and condition a bit better. Ray will not accept pity - in fact he'll rarely accept sympathy unless he's asking for it. He would see himself as damaged. Perhaps that's why he's settled here - the people here would accept him in the basis of his work, not his physical requirements. 

"I'm sorry Ben," his voice is clogged with unshed tears. We're both shaking in reaction, though I am rapidly regaining control of myself. I feel sick that he thinks he must apologise for injuries that were probably suffered in the line of duty. My partner can be very selfless in that regard. 

"Understood," I forestall any further conversation, "You can tell me when you feel more yourself." 

"I was going to tell you, I swear," his face is frightened, but his eyes latch onto my face with determination. I allow my mask to slip, and let him see the love I feel for him, knowing that at the moment all he'll really notice is the absence of pity. 

"I do not doubt that," I reply, "You would never lie to me about something like this. One day, when you feel you can bear it I would like to know how...but not now Ray. The trap did not injure you in any way?" 

In other words did the prosthesis hurt you when it was jarred like that? He shakes his head, and I stand still while his eyes search mine so thoroughly I feel as if I am naked in front of him. He drops his gaze after a moment and tells me he isn't hurt. I decide he needs some time to recover out of my presence, and as I am far more mobile than he I tell him I'm going to check the yard to see if there are any other dangers. He makes me promise to stay on the steps and I do - seeing all too clearly that his nerves can't take any more. 

There is a supply of firewood to one side of the door and I throw pieces of it at suspect patches of snow - hard. I discover three more traps that way and relieve some of my tension at the same time. Stevens comes out to join me, draping a blanket over the first trap. 

"He's just changing, sir," Stevens retrieves his knife, slipping it back into it's sheath after a glance at the blade, "I would like to apologise for my earlier words, sir. It was not my place to interrupt you like that." 

"I understand why you did," it's as close as I want to come to a thank you and Stevens seems relieved at my words. We begin to discuss the best way to ensure that there is no further danger in the staging yard, as the dogs are frequently let out here to exercise while the kennel is cleaned. 

Ray comes out in different trouser and boots, limping a little harder and bundled up in his coat and gloves. He makes arrangements with me about dinner and nods to Stevens once before heading out. Dief whines at him, but stays with me when Ray tells him to. 

* * *

We do not discover the criminal that laid the traps that afternoon. Neither of us is well focussed, and Stevens is also upset. I imagine it must be unnerving to be told to touch a friend's amputated limb in such an intimate manner and I finally call halt to the proceedings - wanting to get to Ray as quickly as I can. 

Constable Stevens furnishes me with directions; though I can probably locate the cabin using my own tracking abilities with Dief's mixed in. The cabin is fairly new and well maintained. It is a good size and I spot the dish that tells me cable TV is installed there, as well as a phone. 

The coat rack is by the door and again there is water and food down for Dief in the accustomed area. My heart leaps at the thought that Ray is trying so hard to make us welcome. I realised on my walk to my new home that any declaration of my feelings would be misconstrued at this point and have hardened myself to the effort of concealing them for a while longer. 

Ray's eyes tell me he has been crying, though the delicious smell of dinner permeates the comfortable interior. Ray has become tidier since he moved here - though I realise the clutter that he lived in in Chicago belonged to a different man. This Ray is still bleeding, though his physical wounds are long since healed. I can wait to regain my Ray - the funny ball of energy that I first fell in love with before I discovered the beautifully complex man beneath. 

"That smells good," I smile and his face lightens a little in relief. 

"Yeah, it'll be ready soon. You wanna wash up and change?" he limps from the kitchen and shows me the bathroom and my bedroom. I wash up and then go to change, reflecting that this room will do until I can join him in his. Reminding myself to be patient and calm I return to the living area for dinner. 

Ray is an excellent cook - despite the fact that he seemed to live on take out in Chicago. The meals I had the pleasure of eating at his apartment there fade in comparison with the one he now serves me. I praise him with a smile and Dief begs a few scraps. 

He asks me about my last posting over dinner and that is all the excuse I need to fill the silence. I tell him about the people there and Dief adds his own comments. It's like old times for us and I see some of the bruised look fade from his eyes when he realises I am not going to push for details about his accident. Any questions I ask in return are limited to his time spent here in Stony Creek and general inquiries about our mutual friends in Chicago - most of whom he now writes to. Ma Vecchio apparently sends him a `care package' now and then - we eat some of it for desert and I help with the clean up, just like old times. 

We settle to a game of chess with the television on in the background. He still takes chocolate in his coffee and has secured the tea blend that I favour above all. In fact I sneaked a quick look in the kitchen while he was in the bathroom. Many of my favourite foods rest on the shelf along with his. Ray meant to keep me at the cabin then, even after he'd told me about his injury. I am warmed straight through at the thought that he does feel something for me, and head back to the chessboard, sitting just as I hear the door open. 

Dief chooses that moment to announce his wish to go out and Ray pulls his coat on, telling me to stay where I am, as I look tired. I concur, adding that I wish to retire for the night and would he mind? 

Ray smiles at me and wishes me sweet dreams before limping outside to walk Dief. I head for my room, and lay in bed listening to him lock up the cabin for the night - unnecessary out here, but a long standing habit is not easily broken - before he retires to his own room. I hear Dief accompany him and their quiet argument as Dief makes it clear he intends to sleep with Ray tonight. I quell another flash of jealousy and go to sleep. 

At some point in the night I hear a few odd noises as Ray goes to the bathroom, but the cabin is soon still again. 

* * *

Chapter Three 

The next morning it is on the tip of my tongue to ask Ray why he did not call me when he was injured, but something holds me back. In hindsight I realise that the question would have been counter productive at that stage - Ray had not yet learned to trust me with his new body and I had not yet learned to read his new signals. I remain in bed until I hear him limping in the kitchen. When I emerge from my room he is fully dressed and gives me a little smile and a faint good morning. 

Breakfast is quick - Ray tells me he has to get out of town to an engine that has seized and he'll be taking the dogs unless I want them. I remind him that my father's team is here too and he grins, slaps himself on the forehead and waves goodbye - out the door before I am with Dief whining sullenly when Ray tells him to stay with me. I realise that he's a little worried about the implications of yesterday and speak to Dief about it as we walk into town. It won't do for us to make Ray uncomfortable in his own home. Dief growls something about broken sleep, but I ignore him, pointing out that he chose to share Ray's bed last night - he was not invited. 

I reach the post just as the mail delivery does - it's dropped by plane and Constable Stevens gets up early to retrieve it, taking the bag to the general store for processing and accepting the bundle of documents that belong to the post. I recognise the writing on one of the envelopes straight away - I've had to decipher Turnbull's ornate yet messy hand more than once and am surprised that the mailing clerks were able to as well. The Chicago postmark has Stevens eyes flash in recognition, but he quite properly shows no interest in the letter and I decide to open it later. There is a mark under the stamp that tells me the letter is personal - I recall it from my time with Turnbull in Chicago. 

We are unable to discover any relevant clue as to the owner of the traps that so nearly injured one of us. Despite our best efforts they yield little evidence to examination. They are well oiled and cared for. The prosthesis - I have a hard time connecting it to my partner - is dented and scratched, leading me to believe that if I had stepped in the trap it would have cut my leg off just above the ankle. I feel sickened by the thought and hope it never occurred to Ray. The last he needs is to be reminded of his own injury, the circumstances of which I am sure are responsible for the shadow on his bright soul. 

A day of careful inquiries leads us nowhere. The people we do speak to are upset at the incident - even more so when they realise that Ray has become the victim. Ray has become a real part of the community here and I decide to play along that angle a little - the townsfolk are much more likely to pass on information to help someone they care for. 

Our efforts aren't fruitful, and I return to the cabin before Ray does. I start dinner - a stew that I know he'll like - and then sit on the couch to read my letter from Turnbull. There is a second envelope sealed inside the first, and Ray's handwriting draws my eye. I quickly read the note Turnbull sent with the envelope, cutting through the blither as if Turnbull were standing in front of me, rather than written words on a page. Ray left the envelope at the Consulate in Chicago with the instructions that Turnbull was to mail it on should I attempt to contact my partner. The fact that we were in the same location now and the letter would arrive after I did had not deterred my former colleague from following Ray's instructions. 

I shake my head, put the letter to one side and run my fingers over the envelope that is still sealed. The handwriting is weak - I believe that Ray wrote this while still in hospital - and unlike his usual errant sprawl. Energy used to add little flourishes and loops to his letters, so if Ray wrote anything when he was excited or in a hurry it became almost illegible to anyone but Ray. Of course Ray was usually excited or in a hurry - though perhaps I should say that Detective Kowalski was. It is possible that I am no longer dealing with the man I knew in Chicago - grievous injuries can change a person, though what changes I have seen so far are the result of depression rather than personality. 

I opened the envelope in steam from Ray's kettle, not wanting to risk damage to it. Dief pressed closely against my leg and nudges me until I agree to read the enclosed note out loud. I settle on the couch and took a deep breath, gathering my wits. 

The further I read the more my throat aches. Unshed tears burn my eyes at the simple retelling of the selfless act of courage and sacrifice that led to Ray's injuries. My heart seizes at the litany of pain as I realise that he had almost died before they could get to him, and again on the operating table as they struggled to put him back together. I did weep when he explained about cutting himself off from the people who loved him the most, unwilling to risk his image in their eyes. There were a few splotches on the hospital stationary that spoke of bitter tears. The cost of writing this simple letter was carved clearly into the page, shaped in the letters and words he had written for me. 

My heart broke as I realised that the man I loved felt that he was too damaged and useless to be of use to his family and friends. The despair told me that had he not been called to Stony Creek it is very possible that I'd have lost Ray to suicide. I had to stop for a moment then. How could my beautiful man not know that he was loved for himself and not his ability to be a detective and athletic son? I felt angry with the people we'd left behind in Chicago, that they hadn't pushed hard enough to make him see this clearly. 

It was the final line that made me realise that my feelings for Ray weren't one sided. Before I even had a chance to assimilate that idea his footsteps sounded on the deck. I drop the letter on the table and beat Dief to the door, flinging it open and sweeping him into my arms, pulling him off balance and inside eagerly. 

"I love you too," I hardly recognised my own voice as I held him to me, trying to communicate through touch all I wanted to say, "I love you Ray Kowalski. I love you." 

"Oomph," was the unromantic response, though his arms were tight around my chest. Dief was pressing in against us both and whining loudly. It was that eventually that made me loosen my grip as I turned to remonstrate with him. 

"Ben!" Ray clutched at me and I felt the tears on his face as he pressed it into my neck, "Oh God I'm so sorry! I love you too and I can't stop! You deserve so much more - not some damaged ex cop. Just, please don't leave me! I can't bear it!" 

"Never!" I vow and Dief is shocked to silence at the fear in his pack mates voice, "I love you and I will spend the rest of my life with you." 

We rock there in the half open doorway until I manage to nudge it shut. I work Ray out of his outerwear without letting go of him at any point and then manage to get us both onto the couch, lying on our sides with Ray wrapped around me and shaking as he sobs silently. I am content to ride out the storm with him in my arms. 

At some point I realised that where our legs are tangled I can feel the unyielding metal of the prosthesis against my own. The cold reminder makes me tighten my grip and I scatter kisses over the honey blond mop that covers Ray's head. He sobs harder and burrows in so close he's almost in my clothes with me. I croon and shush mindlessly, my hands stroking him even as I kiss everything I can reach. 

* * *

When he finally lifts it out of my soaked shirt, Ray's face is a mess. His eyes are swollen almost shut and his face is swollen. There is the usual mess of mucous that occurs after a crying jag, but that doesn't deter me from kissing his swollen eyes and blotched cheeks. Before either of us can speak a bell sounds in the kitchen and both of our stomachs rumble in response. Ray gives a watery sort of chuckle and I drag us both upright and then off the couch. I kiss his forehead once more and let go cautiously. 

"Go wash up while I set the table," I suggest, "I love you." 

Ray nods, tears swelling once more in red eyes. I brush them away with my thumb and kiss his eyes one last time before heading firmly away to the kitchen. I hear Ray stumble and steel myself not to turn and catch him, freezing only for a moment before heading on to the kitchen. Dief accompanies Ray anxiously as he heads for the bathroom and I manage to serve dinner and drinks by the time Ray has returned. 

He looks a little better - still red around his poor swollen eyes and his breathing hitches once or twice as he tries to regain control - yet won't quite meet my eyes. We sit opposite each other and I wrap one foot around his ankle, smiling a little when he glances at me. He stretches that leg out towards me a little and smiles hesitantly in return. We eat in silence and clean the kitchen the same way. 

I pull Ray back onto the couch, sitting close and holding his hand. Something tells me that pushing too hard right now is contraindicated and I'm happy with the simple contact for now. 

"Ray, I have to say this - and then I'll never bring it up again unless you do," I feel him tense and watch the colour drain from his face as he fixes his eyes on the fireplace. I wish he could just see my heart and know what I was going to say - thus sparing him this moment of fear and pain. 

"No matter what you do for a living, or how you do it, I will always love you. I believe I fell in love on the quest - you were trying so hard to be all you could. You are a good and decent man and nothing will change you in my eyes. Of course, should you choose to become a criminal I will be forced to arrest you, but I will remain faithful while you are in prison serving your sentence." 

There's a little snort of laughter and he finally meets my eyes. I let my guard drop - relishing that I'm almost naked in front of him as I let him see my heart so clearly. Something in his eyes eases and he sags against the cushions for a moment before straightening and opening his eyes. The expression in them! So much love and gratitude and lust and so many more things, all of them exciting and all of them for me! He flings himself forward into my arms and kisses me passionately, his lips warm and restless against mine as his tongue traces my mouth and taps at my lips. I open obediently and he slips inside. His flavour explodes across my tongue and I groan, pressing closer for more of it, letting my own tongue move and touch in return. 

Ray shifts carefully on the couch, angling his body to press against mine, drawing me closer and wrapping his arms around my torso. I shift obligingly, leaning back and drawing him after me until we are once more tangled on the couch. He stiffens for a moment when he realises our legs are twined together and the prosthesis is touching me, but I continue to kiss him lightly, stroking his back with one hand and his hair with the other. There is a muffled sob and a single hot tear splashes on my face before he intensifies the kiss again, licking and nibbling at my lips in delightful movements. 

His hands stray through my hair and over my face - as if he learning me by heart. I sigh and hitch him closer, earning a smile. He leaves one hand tangled in my hair and sends the other down to caress my shoulder and chest. I arch as he finds and strokes a nipple through my clothes, moaning into his mouth shamelessly as the sensation screams straight down to my groin. I feel the first of the blood rush and gasp for air as the man I love arouses me with his mouth and hands. I can feel him harden as well, just from the effect he's having on my own body and increase my appreciative noises as he rubs against my thigh almost as an afterthought. I cannot let go of his head, feeling that I must continue to caress that silken hair and stand it up in spikes until it looks the way I became accustomed to seeing it in Chicago. 

Before I can lose myself in the sensations that Ray is giving to me a loud whine interrupts us. Ray pauses and then lifts his mouth away from mine reluctantly to turn his head. I open my eyes - not realising I had closed them - to see Dief dancing that dance beside the couch. He whines again, urgently and Ray muffles his laughter in the crook of my neck. 

"Looks like number one son needs to go out, dad," he gasps and I laugh too. I cannot help it - Dief looks so urgently disgusted at the comment. Ray calms down, kisses me thoroughly for good measure and then heaves himself up off my body and the couch. 

"May I join you in bed tonight?" I ask him as I sit up. I keep my eyes fixed on his face. Ray trusts me with his heart, I know that absolutely - and I also know that he is still unsure about trusting me with his new body. That will change in time when he is sure of my reaction to whatever his clothes are hiding. Some scarring, certainly, and the place where his leg used to be. 

"We needn't do anything other than sleep. To be honest I am a little fatigued," I give him my best honest expression and he grins, a quirk of his lips that makes my heart pound in joy. He nods and heads into his room while I go to the door. Dief dashes out the moment I open it and I snag my coat to follow him, glancing back at the now empty living area of the cabin. It is home to me already, and I smile. 

Ray is in bed when I return, lying stiffly with the light off and the covers pulled up to his chin. I fetch my sleepwear and enter his room, changing in front of the bed before slipping into the bed and taking his hand. We lie like that for a while before he sighs and rolls onto his side, bringing our hands up to his chest. 

"I'm...ashamed," his voice was low and choked, "You're perfect..." 

"No," I laid a finger on his lips, "I'm not. No one is. You are beautiful to me - you always will be. It doesn't matter to me what scars you have. I can only see you as beautiful." 

Ray makes a choked little noise and scoots closer hesitantly. I free my hand and wrap my arms around him, pulling him against my body. I feel the stump of his leg brush against me and kiss his temple while he quivers and decides whether to bolt or not. In the end he stays and slowly relaxes in my warm clasp. Eventually his breathing slows into sleep, leaving me to marvel at the strength of my partner. A lesser man would have died of loneliness by now, his heart broken. My Ray's spirit and strength were at a low ebb, but I have confidence I can help him recover them in time. 

* * *

I am woken by a muffled scream. Ray is fighting to get free from the comfortable sprawl that we'd fallen asleep in, and in shock I let go, rolling back to the edge of the bed. Despite the fact that I have let go, Ray continues to fight and I hear a muffled groan as he thrashes and convulses in the bed. From the few words he utters I realise that he is reliving the incident that led to the loss of his leg. My heart breaks at the pleading tone in his voice and I begin to understand that he was aware of the medics' efforts to free his trapped body and the final decision to remove the leg. Dief leaps onto the bed with a growl and dodges a flailing arm to grip the sweatshirt that Ray had worn to bed. He leans back sharply, putting his weight into the movement, just in time to stop Ray from falling from the bed. 

Ray wakes with a gasp and lays still, panting in remembered terror as his surroundings slowly become clear to him. Dief lets go carefully and steps forward to lick the tears from Ray's face. Thin trembling arms wrap themselves around Dief's neck and he settles onto Ray's chest with a gentle rumbling noise. I am frozen, unable to move and unwilling to make him remember that there is an all too human witness to his fear. They seem totally immersed in each other as Dief soothes my lover back to a semblance of calm. I put a hand out to them but don't touch; sensing perhaps that it is best to let Ray recover on his own for a moment. As though sensing the movement, Ray drops a hand from Dief's fur to rest on mine. There is a minute tremble in the long fingers and I squeeze gently, tying to give him some of my strength. 

"Did I hurt ya, Ben love?" Ray's voice is rough and tired sounding, though he doesn't remove his face from the fur it is buried in. 

"Not at all," I am grateful to be reporting the truth. This is the sound that I heard last night - the aftermath of the nightmare that had woken Ray and his trip to the bathroom. Even as I realise this, Dief is shifting back and Ray is letting go to lean over the edge of the bed, pulling out a pair of crutches and getting up to go to the bathroom with Dief shepherding him gently. I stretch my hearing anxiously and am relieved to hear only the sounds of a man relieving himself, then the taps as he washes his face and hands, mumbling under his breath the whole while. Dief makes a grumbling noise in response to Ray's low comment and there is a shaky chuckle in reply as Ray answers him. They have bonded into a pack already and Ray's comment about number one son is truer than ever. 

It is while he is sliding the crutches back under the bed that my brain finally processes what he said and engages my mouth without my permission. 

"What did you call me?" I gasp and Ray turns to look at my left shoulder - apparently the only point on my body that won't embarrass him. I'm too stunned to notice - this is the first pet name I've ever been given in my life and I want to be sure that it wasn't said accidentally. I see no regret in his eyes; though I suspect he is worried I will think him too sentimental. I don't - the fact that he has given me a pet name has my heart soaring. 

"Ben love," his voice is steady, "Too sappy? I usually call you Frase in front of everyone, but in my head it was always Ben or Ben love. Not Benny - that was the real Ray's name for ya." 

"You are the real Ray," I breathe, "The only Ray I'll ever need. The only one I love." 

I seal that vow with a kiss and then tug him back down along my body, resettling us in the sprawl that the nightmare interrupted. I can feel the tension in his body and try to ease it with my hands, stroking and gentling him until he is once more relaxed in my arms. It takes a long time - his muscles jerk back to tension now and then as his memory throws something else at him. Gradually the tremors become less frequent and eventually they die out altogether. We lie in silence for a while and then he stirs a little, dashing my hopes that he is asleep once more. Dief lifts his head from it's place on the bed, looking annoyed that Ray won't cooperate and just go back to sleep. 

"Ya know, with you here it doesn't seem too bad," there is a drowsy kind of wonder in his voice and I feel my eyes burn with tears. I kiss the top of his head and then nuzzle his hair. I wonder how long he's been fighting the night terrors all alone in this empty cabin. Despite the friendship and support of the people at Stony Creek my love is still very alone - or he was. Never again. 

"I'm here now," I promise, "You're not alone anymore." 

He lifts his head enough to kiss me and then puts it back in place. I am gratified to hear his breathing slow to a true sleep rhythm. Dief looks across the lax body at me and then shifts closer to rest his own head on Ray's back. I decide not to fuss about it now - after all the wolf did take care of Ray last night in my place - but I resolve to speak to Dief about this in the morning. I have no intention of performing in front of him and I'm pretty sure Ray doesn't either. 

* * *

We discuss our plans for the day over breakfast and Ray mentions that he needs to set up an appointment in Chicago to get a new prosthesis fitted to replace the one that was damaged in the trap. I nod my acceptance and then inform him that I may not be able to accompany him as I have only just arrived at the post. 

"It's ok, Ben love, I can handle it," he smiles at me. We've both smiled a lot this morning, waking together was a wonderful experience and I want to experience a lot more of it. 

"It should only take a week or so and I'll go visit the folks while I'm there. Mom's been pressing me for a while and Ma Vecchio's last letter was positively demanding." 

I'm not surprised that he's stayed in touch with the Vecchio's - Ma Vecchio used to get a very soft look in her eye when speaking to her `son' and I thought she would try to keep him once both Ray's were finished with the undercover role. 

"Perhaps we could spend Christmas there," I suggest, "If you think you would like to." 

His face lights up in a smile and he reaches over to touch my hand. He nods and then gets up, limping around the table to kiss me. It is a soft tender kiss that none-the-less stirs my groin and speeds my heart. 

"Woo, what you do to me," Ray gasps when he pulls back, "Now I need a cold shower." 

His erection is pressing eagerly against the front of his jeans and I decide I cannot wait any longer. I want the taste of him and the texture of him on my tongue. 

"I can think of a better way to help with that," I whisper and turn in my chair to press my face against his bulge. It twitches against me and his breathing hitches. I rub my face in his groin, bringing my hands up to cradle his buttocks and pull him closer. He pants in reaction and I undo the jeans quickly, drawing him out before replacing my hands. 

"You always used to say I like to lick strange things," I chuckle and take him in my mouth. The fluid weeping from the slit in his penis tastes a little bitter, then I can taste him and I groan in delight. I run my tongue over him for the texture and swallow gently as I draw more of him into my mouth. He is making little noises of pleasure and his hands come down to caress my head as I work his cock in and out of my mouth, suckling and licking as the mood takes me. His noises become urgent as he chants my name over and over again - a litany of pleasure and praise. His cock twitches hard in my mouth and his hands tighten, trying to warn me and pull me away. I simply latch on and suck harder, swallowing, as my mouth is flooded with his come. 

I lick him clean and tuck his limp penis back into his clothes, rearranging them so he is dressed properly once more. I become aware of my own erection, straining against my uniform trousers and shift a little. Ray straightens up - he had been leaning rather heavily against the table and me while he panted for breath - and he leans down to kiss me. He draws back in astonishment at his taste in my mouth and then leans in again for another sweet kiss. Wordlessly he draws me up to lean on the table while he sits in my seat and unbuckles my belt before opening my trousers. 

"Ben love," he sighs and draws my aching erection out, kissing the tip before sucking me all the way into his mouth and swallowing hard. I come like a stampeding herd of musk ox, clutching the table in shock as the pleasure explodes through my body and steals all reason. 

I regain my awareness cuddled to his chest. He is kissing my hair and cupping my limp penis in his hand, stroking it with a single finger, while his other arm cradles me close. He is crooning nonsense to me between kisses, words of love and reassurance as he rocks to and fro a little. I feel warmed and comforted and nuzzle into his neck. He chuckles a little. 

"Signs of life," his voice is loving and I sigh happily, "You back with me yet?" 

"Mmmm," I agree and he lets me be. The finger that is stroking my penis feels so good that I shift into it, looking for more sensation. He obliges, using his whole hand to stroke and caress me, sending pleasant aftershocks through my body. I hum in reply and snuggle in close. He feels like home and safety and I think I tell him this because he kisses my temple and nuzzles my hair. 

After a while I have the strength to sit up a little more and I look up at him with a smile. We share a slow kiss and then press our foreheads together. He sighs in contentment and then pats my back. 

"Work," his voice is regretful and I jump in remembrance. He laughs as I glance at the clock and fumble my uniform back into place. He kisses me soundly and lets me go, stepping back carefully. 

"I'll bring ya some lunch," Ray promises and I snatch another kiss. 

"I love you," I tell him, "I'm sorry I have to go." 

"I love you too, Ben. It's ok," his face is clear and his tone content, so I kiss him again before tearing myself away and hurrying to the door. Dief licks Ray's hand and trots after me, glancing back before he goes through the door - as reluctant as I am to leave my lover behind. 

"We'll see him at lunch, Diefenbaker," my voice is stern and Dief shakes himself hard before matching his pace to mine. If we hurry we can still be on time. 

* * *

Chapter Four 

Sasha Rose is expecting me for dinner tonight, and I warn Frase at lunch that he and Steve are expected too. Steve starts to stammer something about missing out this time and I fix him with the old Chicago glare. 

"Yer coming to dinner, Steve. Don't make Sasha send me after you," I growl and he nods, his face a little red. I keep the glare on him to see what will happen and he goes redder before starting to shake. I turn it up a notch and he bursts into gales of laughter, slouching helplessly in his chair while the sound just pours out of him. I grin hard and nod once before winking at Frase and ruffling Dief's fur. He looks at me with a blank expression. 

"Human humour," I tell him and he snorts before going to see if Steve has dropped any food in his hilarity. Frase rolls his eyes at me as Steve gets it together and I grin again. 

"How are we going with the traps?" I think Frase is surprised that I asked, but I've got two very good friends and the man I love working here and I don't want to see them getting hurt. Not now that I've finally got it on with the man I love. 

"We're unable to locate sufficient clues to lead us to the perpetrator," Frase says in a dark voice and I make a note to tell him again that I'm ok. The jarring I got wasn't pleasant, and I'm a little tender because of it, but it could have been worse. It could have been my other leg - or Frase. 

"The people we did speak to were all able to account for their hardware and their time," Steve adds, "Quite a few people have inquired about your health, Ray." 

"They only gotta go down to Bucker's cabin to find out about that. I swear the man is insane - he now wants me to build him a conservatory as well as the new library," I shake my head, "He wants it shaped like a map of Canada so he can plant seedlings typical to the area in the right locations. I pointed out to him that out here it was gonna cost him a whole pile of money, but ever since he won the state lottery he's been splurging." 

Frase gapes at me, but Steve has heard it all before and simply collects his lunch wrappers. I brought enough for all of us - Dief included - because it would seem strange to bring in food just for the two of us. Not to mention rude. Steve is a good man and a friend and doesn't need to be given the cold shoulder just because his boss and I are starting on a lifetime of making like crazed weasels. 

"Mary Sue will be back in town next week," Steve tells me and I feel a pang of loss. Her face was cut up pretty bad and they flew her out for plastic surgery. I heard that her face was gonna be scarred for life and I wondered how she'd manage out here now. She'd always be linked to the death of Sarge in some people's minds - that and the fact that a lot of the local mama's were cracking down on their girls' behaviour and friendships. Mary Sue would be out in the cold socially for a while. 

"Poor kid," was all I said, "We should go round later Steve, and see if her folks need anything." 

Steve nodded and then volunteered to do that himself, which Frase thanked him kindly for. Obviously my Ben love was planning to monopolise my time for a while. I remind them both of the time that dinner will be served at Sasha's house and then head on out after arranging to meet Frase there. Bucker wants his new library finished by the end of the week and I've got work to do. I also need to read the manual of his new car in case something goes wrong with the stupid thing. It's one of those new models that fetches your slippers and drives itself while reading the paper out loud - all new fancy gadgets. The thought makes me grin and wonder when I turned into my dad. 

Mandy Croft stops me in the street to ask me to check over their generator tomorrow morning and I pause long enough to get the latest gossip, including news of her pregnancy. I congratulate her and promise to come and check the generator first thing before heading on along the road. A few other people stop me and it gets me to thinking about Chicago and how different things are on the streets there. 

I get to Buckers and swallow a groan at the catalogue he's waving at me. 

* * *

Dinner at Sasha's is kinda interesting. Steve is welcomed like the second son, and sat in his usual place while I do the honours with the formal introductions. Then Sasha is on me, hugging hard enough to count my ribs by touch - which is probably what she's doing - and then ordering me out to the kitchen to help set the table while the two Mounties sit with her husband and discuss the woodcarving he's in the middle of. He's teaching me to do that and it's kinda cool - soothing in a way. Most my sculptures look like nothing on earth and end up in the fire, but I'm slowly getting better. I ordered a set of proper knives in a catalogue and that helped. 

Sasha is still on her `feed Ray until he bursts' campaign and Frase gets a grin on his face that he hides when he sees me looking. He sits bolt upright when Sasha fixes him with the `mommy glare' and starts grilling him about my eating habits away from her eagle eye. I almost feel sorry for the guy until I realise he's nodding enthusiastically and swapping fattening recipes. He'll soon cool it when he realises that it's him she'll yell at if I don't weigh in heavier at my next visit. 

Steve is relieved to be out of the crossfire until Sasha starts in on his suggested diet and can Frase possibly supervise that as well. Both men are thankful that Frase can't and Steve gets upped to three times a week visits. Mr Rose and I just share a wink and eat quietly, knowing better than to get involved. Neither one of us wants to sleep on the couch tonight. 

"So, did you get your doctor's appointment?" Sasha fires at me over her heavenly pie and I nod, then chew hard and swallow quickly so I can answer her more politely. 

"There was a cancellation for next week - I'll be able it fit in then. I'll be gone about a week for measurements and trials and I thought I'd spend the time with Mom and Dad," I smile at her. 

"A week?" Frase blurts in dismay and Sasha nods firmly. 

"Quite right, Sergeant," she agrees, "He's still not completely recovered and it's a long time to be away from home. Not to mention the journey, I swear Peter Leavenworth is letting that plane rust out from underneath him." 

That's not what Frase was worried about, though now he is - assessing me anxiously across the table. I try to look like I've regained all the weight I lost and my skin is the colour it used to be, but he's not fooled. Truth is some days I'm just so wiped out from the work that I fall asleep on the couch until the nightmare wakes me. Last night was the first time I really went back to sleep again and I know for a fact it was Frase and Dief that made the difference. 

"Perhaps I could authorise Constable Stevens some leave time and he could accompany you," he says and I bristle straight away. I'm damaged, not fucking useless. Steve catches my eye and shakes his head solemnly, warning me not to explode in front of my Canadian mother who would probably wash my mouth out with soap. Fraser has vetoed his own idea almost in the next breath and I'm starting to think he'll be back in his old room tonight if he doesn't calm the fuck down. 

"I'll go with him," Sasha decides and Mr Rose raises an eyebrow at her, "I've been curious about Chicago ever since I met you honey and you can show me around. I'd like to meet your mother, too. Just reassure her that we're taking care of you while you're recovering." 

Mr Rose offers me a commiserating look that his wife misses. The relief on Fraser's face is too genuine for me to be mad; though I promise myself we're going to discuss this tonight. I don't want to be fighting to stand on my own. I saw the way he wanted to turn around when I stumbled last night and that is the way I want it to be between us. I want him to trust me to take care of myself - damage and all. 

"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray..." Ben's voice calls me back from my own private musings and I blink before apologising. Sasha hates it when I drift off like that, though it's a habit I've had for a very long time. 

"Sorry, what did you say?" 

"I said: have you called your parents yet?" Sasha reminds me and doctors a cup of coffee with chocolate before handing it over. Steve gets real hot chocolate and so does Frase - served in thick porcelain beakers like you`d give to a kid. The oversized mugs are blue - just the right colour for cocoa mugs. 

"Mom wasn't in so I left a message with the machine. I managed to get hold of Ma Vecchio and she'll check that Mom's checked her messages. I'll call again tomorrow and let them know you're coming - that way we can organise a bed for you," I sip the coffee and smile in thanks. 

"Oh no, honey, I'll stay at a hotel," Sasha waves a hand and I bristle straight away. No mother of mine is staying in a hotel in a strange city when there is family that can put her up! From the look on her face I said that out loud and bury my red face in my mug. Mr Rose chuckles and gets up, collecting plates and heading for the kitchen. Sasha's smile is glowing and Frase pats my shoulder on the way past with his own load of plates. I can't find it in myself to be ashamed for too long and offer her a smile and a hand squeeze. 

* * *

When we get back to the cabin, Frase goes straight to the fire, stirring it up and then standing with his back to it. He's rubbing his eyebrow with his thumb, and he's obviously freaking over something. I'm about to ask what's up when he makes a little frustrated noise. 

"Ray...I want to apologise...I know you don't need a chaperone...it's just that I started thinking about how dangerous Chicago can be and you'd be there without me...you didn't call when you were hurt..." 

The last part is said in a whisper and I realise he's afraid that I won't tell him if I get hurt again. His attitude at dinner is explained in a second and I go put my arms around him. He stands stiffly, not hugging me back, but I've had him once and can't survive alone any more. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him now. 

"I promise you that I'll call," I tell him, "I'll never not call again." 

Ok, so it's not that eloquent, but I'm misting up here and I want him to hear the truth. He looks me in the eye real close and then nods. His arms come up to pull me close and we stand like that for a moment. I hide my face in his neck and take a deep breath of Ben smell. 

"I'm sorry I hurt you," I whisper, "I just couldn't bear to be seen by anyone. Not until I was walking again. Not until I knew I wouldn`t be a burden on them." 

"You're not," he whispers back, "You'll never be a burden to me." 

I just hang on tighter for a moment and then take a deep breath. He knows what I'm like now, in bed and out of it. I've gotta be fair about this. 

"I know I'm no prize...you'd probably be better off sleeping in your own bed so I don't wake you up every time...I wouldn't mind...you need your sleep..." 

"I wouldn't sleep at all," Frase says sternly and shakes me a little, "Stop it. Stop trying to make me treat you like you're damaged. You're not." 

I snort at that, but a great weight lifts off my heart and I stop as ordered. Dief patters over and sits next to us, eyeing us expectantly. I turn my head enough to look back at him. 

"What?" I ask and he thumps his tail on the floor, "Ben, your wolf's a pervert. I think he wants to watch us make out." 

"He's not my wolf," Frase tells me straightaway, "I have nothing to do with him. If you hadn't jumped me at breakfast he wouldn't have got an eyeful and developed this habit." 

"You weren't objecting at the time, and if I remember you jumped first," I tell him indignantly. A sappy smile takes over Frase's face and he caresses my face gently. 

"Understood," is all he says and I kiss him. He kisses me back and we cuddle in close again. I'm getting tired though, and shift against him, balancing my weight on one leg. He manages not to hustle us to the nearest seat, choosing to take more of my weight on him and nuzzling my ear. He brings a bit of tongue action into it, doing something swirly that has me totally dizzy and more than a little unbalanced. 

"Ben love," my voice is hoarse and totally out of my control, "Bed, now. Need you. Love you." 

He takes his tongue out of my ear and kisses my nose instead. 

"I'll walk Dief," he says, "I'll only be a few minutes." 

He lets go and moves for the door, telling Dief that this is his only chance for the night and to just hurry up and come along. I head for the bedroom and strip off, hanging my clothes over the back of a chair that I keep there for that reason and start to change into sweats. After a moment the reason Ben really left hits me and I sit on the bed, hard. 

He left so I could change, and get into bed without me seeing him. I'm still sitting there, thinking about that when he walks in himself. He hesitates when he realises that I'm sitting on the bed in my boxers, staring at my sweats, prosthesis still on. I think he's not sure if I meant for him to see me like this or not, but after a moment he decides to stay. 

"Ray?" he voice is gentle and I look up. There is only concern in his eyes and a little fear. I try to think of a way to explain what I'm thinking. 

"You can't make love fully dressed," I tell him and he misunderstands me, stripping down unselfconsciously. I smile at him and toss the sweats to one side. I can do this - it's not hard. He already knows I'm damaged, what can it hurt to see me as I am now? I loosen the bent coat hanger and slip it off, sliding it under the bed out of the way. I check that the crutches are in the right spot - I'm paranoid about not being mobile, I know it - and stand next to the bed to slip off my boxers as well. 

My cock is totally limp and shrivelled as I cringe from my own nakedness. There are a few long scars on my body and of course the stump itself. Ben stands on the other side of the bed naked as well. I focus on his body instead, smiling at him and trying to act like this is no big deal. After the hospital he is the first person to see me naked. 

He pulls back the blankets and gets into bed, sliding onto one side and holding them up for me in invitation. My resolve breaks and I slide in, pulling them up to cover me and closing my eyes in shame. His arms come around me and he rolls, pulling on me until I'm lying on top of him, skin to skin. 

"I love you," his voice is solemn and quiet. I can feel all of me pressing into all of him, even the end of my leg and he's relaxed. His hands stroke my arms and back while I brace myself above him and look down at his face. It's calm and happy. We're good here - he's not gonna freak out on me. 

"I love you," I reply, "So much Ben love." 

He smiles and leans up for a kiss. This is good, I like his mouth and tongue and kiss him back, following his mouth a he puts his head down again. We kiss for a while; sharing breath while the bed warms up from our heat. Then his hands start getting adventurous and wander all over the place, touching and stroking and rubbing things. I get hard against him and he seems to like that, pressing up into my weight and rubbing himself on me. I send my own hands exploring and find out that he loves have his nipples played with. I feel his cock poking into me and start rubbing back. 

We're puffing and panting and making stupid noises now. He splits his legs so I'm between them and I shift to line my cock up with his. We both groan at that and get a lot more excited. I try rubbing against him and he shoves his hips up demandingly. I can feel our cocks getting slick with pre come and sweat, which makes the rub more of a glide and I have to kiss him, hard. He kisses back just as hard and I wriggle a little on him, managing to get my legs braced so I can move a bit better. We're both thrusting into each other now and he's got both hands on my ass, playing with it and squeezing while I tease his nipples and kiss him. 

"Ben love," I groan and speed up as the need in me builds. He takes a hand away from my ass to grip both our cocks together, grinding and squeezing them as we move. We both moan and start moving faster, the stupid noises getting louder and more urgent. I feel myself start to come and scream his name, driving into his body and hand hard, shuddering and shooting all over him. He goes still and stiff, then shudders hard and comes too, moaning my name softly. 

We collapse onto the mattress and I move reluctantly to get off him. His arms and legs whip up and grab me, holding me in place with a growl. 

"Ok," I gasp and settle onto his body, snuggling in and gloating in that way all men have. He's gloating too, with a huge sappy smile plastered all over his face. We kiss for a few minutes and then he sighs. 

"I'll get a cloth," he pats my ass, and I slide off so he can get up. The blankets are tangled at the bottom of the bed and I leave them there, not wanting to mess them up. Ben comes back with a warm cloth and cleans himself in front of me, handling his limp cock suggestively before leaning over to clean mine. 

"Tease," I growl and he smiles as I lie there passively while he handles my body. He kisses me slowly before going to put the cloth away and then climbing back into bed. I sit up to untangle the blankets and he puts out a hand. His face is uncertain, like he's worried about what he's about to say. 

"Can I look?" he asks and I suck in a startled breath. I guess he was too busy before to pay attention to what I looked like. I nod in a jerky motion and lie back for him. He sits up and looks at the scars on my body, his eyes sad and troubled. When he sees me watching him he smiles and leans over to kiss them lightly, following them down my body and back up again. He shifts further down the bed and I tense as he looks at the stump, lying stiffly in an effort not to hide from him. He has a right to see this - after all we kinda own each other now. That doesn't make it any easier and when he leans forward my control breaks. 

"Don't," my voice is all scared and soft and I hate myself for it. Frase just sits back up and pulls the blankets over both of us before pulling me into his side and wrapping his arms and legs around me. 

"Sorry," he whispers sadly and I shake my head, moving to look him in the eye. 

"We're good," I tell him and give him a kiss, "I'm just not ready for you to do that." 

"Understood," he tells me and we settle down for some sleep. 

* * *

At some point Dief must have come in, because it's him who stops me from falling out of bed screaming, and it's him who wipes the tears away - by licking them, yuk. I hide in his fur while he pins me down on the bed, and get it back together, calming down when I feel Frase's hand on mine in the fur and his warmth along my side. 

"Shit," I say finally, "Sorry. Did I hurt you Ben love?" 

"No," he kisses my ear and waits for me to pull my face outta Dief's neck, "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, I'm good," I sigh and it's true. The shaking is almost gone and I can breathe - well almost normally `cos Dief is no lightweight, "What a freak." 

I sound disgusted with myself because I am - I hate being a head case and all weepy over a stupid dream. 

"Stop that. You are not a head case," Frase musta been reading my mind, because he startles me and I jump. Dief adds his opinion with a growl and a chin to temple lick that has me squirming. Frase laughs at me and Dief looks smug as I push him off and get up, using the crutches and not even realising I'm naked until I get into the bathroom. I have to sit down in shock - Frase just got an eyeful of my damage and me and I didn't even care at the time. 

It takes me a while to get it back together and Frase is not in the room when I come back. I wonder if he knows what I felt and get back into the bed, stowing the crutches and settling. He comes in with Dief and two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, complete with little marshmallows. I sit up against the headboard and take the mugs, waiting until he's settled and Dief is curled up on my foot to pass the mug over. He's still naked and the sight of him strolling around in the altogether is comforting. 

We drink it in silence and he takes the cups out to the kitchen to rinse them off before climbing back in with me and pulling me close. I snuggle in happily, and he starts petting me again like he did last night. The hot drink and his touch are sending me back to la la land and I manage to kiss him before crashing again. 

We wake together in the morning and I kiss my man hello. He kisses me back and we get interactive with each other, squirming and wriggling and moaning until Dief gets up in disgust and stalks out. At that point we're too far gone to care and by the time we notice he's gone we're also heading back to sleep. A brief nap recharges me and I get up first, using the crutches deliberately, deciding that if Frase can stand to see it then I can stand to show it. He's gone when I get out of the bathroom and I dress quickly before gimping in to take over breakfast while he goes and gets cleaned up and dressed. 

We do the goofy grin thing over breakfast, and Frase has to rush out again because of our morning hello. I figure we should start waking up earlier and reset my alarm. I tidy the place up and head out to Bucker's to finish his library. I've got the walls and floor and ceiling and roof in, now I've got to build and install the bookshelves. He's got some really nice wood for me to use and at least I'll be inside today. 

I'm halfway there - my leg is starting to drag a little in the snow - when Dief comes haring up the road, barking wildly. I freeze, and my heart actually stops beating for a moment. 

"Dief, where's Frase?" I gasp as he cavorts around me happily. From the way he's behaving I know there's no trouble, but why isn't he on duty? Dief seems perfectly happy to continue to Bucker's cabin and I speed up as much as I can, falling a coupla times as I lumber through the snow, cursing my leg and the fact that neither one of us carries cell phones. 

"Bucker - I need the phone!" I yell as I go up the steps and he meets me in the kitchen. He's frowning at Dief, who is frowning back, clearly offended by the American dcor. 

"Stony Creek RCMP, Sergeant Fraser speaking," he sounds calm and professional and I gulp in relief. 

"It's me - what's with Dief? He turned up halfway to Buckers and I thought you'd been shot or something," the words tumble out of me and my voice is shaking in fear. Bucker grabs me and stuffs me into a kitchen chair, turning to holler for his wife and holding me in place as I listen to Frase's voice squawk from the phone that's somehow landed on the floor. 

I can't breathe and I can't move - I can't even answer them when they try and talk to me. All I can do is cling to the sound of the squawking from the phone as Dief snaps to get Bucker away and then gets up and balances heavily on my lap. I slide my face into his fur and suddenly I'm breathing again, gasping for air and coughing in reaction. I'm shivering `cos I'm somehow wet through and I don't remember much of anything until I get a huge surge of Ben smell and he's got his arms around me safely. 

Funny enough, the phone is still squawking until Bucker picks it up and tells Steve he'll call back. The three of us rock, me in the chair with Dief in my lap and Frase kneeling beside me. Finally I can lift my face out of the fur and apologise to Bucker. 

"I'm taking him back to the cabin. Please inform Constable Stevens that I won't be in today," Frase says when I'm done and Bucker nods. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ray," he tells me, like it's the end of the day and I'm on the way home after getting his library nearly finished, instead of freaking out in his kitchen like the damaged lump that I am. I nod and Dief slides to the floor. Frase gets me up - I'm too wobbly to do it myself - and we walk out with his arms around me. Normally I'd be protesting, and he can tell, `cos he mutters `for me' in my ear. I figure if my leaning on him makes him feel better I can handle that and lean hard, clutching his arms tightly. 

Halfway home I make him stop so I can puke, and then I kinda zone out on him, `cos I don't remember going inside or stripping down and getting into the bath with him. I haven't used the bath since I got here - too hard to get out of by myself, and the shower is quicker - but he gets the water almost broiling and slides us both in, sitting behind me and wrapping his arms and legs around me. 

"Can you tell me what happened?" his voice is quiet and still, and kind of slides into the silence without disturbing it. I nod and sigh, leaning my head back so it's resting on his shoulder and I can see his face. 

"My back up never came. I still don't know why. If it had...maybe..." I swallow and close my eyes when he stiffens up behind me in a bad way. I have to get this out so he understands, and if he speaks I'll never be able to finish it. He must know that `cos he doesn't say a word. 

"When Dief turned up all I could think was...where was your back up? Next thing I know I'm tearing through the woods and falling into slushy snow like an idiot. When I heard your voice..." I shiver and he leans down to kiss me on the temple, his arms and legs tightening for a moment. 

"I had a few panic attacks in the hospital after I woke up - mainly that I was trapped and couldn't move `cos they had all these machines and stuff on me. Suzy said it was normal and it would wear off, like the nightmares. I haven't had one since I moved up here." 

"Was Suzy your psychiatrist?" his voice does that blend with the silence thing and I smile at him, thinking about how much I love him and how lucky I was to get Suzy as my technician. 

"Nope," I stroke the arms holding on to me and wonder how he knows exactly what I need, "She's my tech. She built my leg and taught me how to use it and all. She lost her left one in the same place when she was eighteen. I could tell her anything, and she got in my face when I was being a jerk. I did that a lot." 

"Understood," there's another kiss on my temple and we sit quietly in the water together. 

* * *

Dief comes to me after supper that night. Frase took him outside for a quick walk and I'm in bed, reading and trying not to worry that the damn wolf will leave him alone again. I never realised how much I was depending on Dief until he let me down like that. He drops a rabbit next to the bed and whines. 

"I know ya are," I tell him, trying hard not to worry about getting blood off the floor, "It's just that I need to know you've got his back now that I can't, Dief. I need you to stay with him unless we arrange otherwise. I'd love to spend the day with you, but I worry, ya know?" 

He leans in for a petting, and I rub his ears lightly until Frase comes in. 

"Dief caught a rabbit," I tell him and he exclaims in surprise, going around the bed to pick it up off the floor. He starts telling Dief off, though the animal's neck was broken, not torn out. I couldn't have handled the blood right now. 

"I'd better hang this. We can dress it tomorrow," Frase leans over and kisses me, "Come and wash your mouth out Diefenbaker - you're not kissing Ray after putting this in your mouth." 

Diefenbaker pulls away from me and heads on out at Frase's heels. I snuggle down in bed and listen to the two of them moving around out there. It's such a sharp contrast from the silence of before that I have to catch my breath and focus hard on my book. They finish their puttering and Dief comes in to snuggle with me on the bed while Frase banks the fire and turns out the lights. 

He pauses in the doorway to look at us, cuddled in the pool of light from the bedside lamp. I see a flash of white and realise he's smiling. I'm on my side facing the bathroom and Dief is curled up along my stomach. 

"I'm sure that wolf packs don't sleep like this," he tells Dief, who pretends not to hear him. Over the years I've noticed that Dief can hear just fine when he needs to - like when someone's talking about going out for donuts. Frase just sighs and slides in behind me, leaning over to turn off the light and then settling down to spoon with me. He tangles his fingers with mine where they're tangled in fur and I sigh happily before closing my eyes. 

"Sweet dreams, Ray," is the last thing I hear. I wish Ben love, I think but don't say it. If the panic attacks aren't as dead as I thought then the nightmares are here for the long haul. 

Sure enough, Ben saves me from falling off the bed and Dief lets me hide in his fur as I shiver and shake through another aftermath, gasping for air and bawling my stupid eyes out. We do the bathroom-hot-chocolate-snuggle thing again and I sleep like a baby for the rest of the night, snuggled on Ben's chest like a baby with its Mama. 

I manage to get half the library done before heading back to town to meet Frase and Steve at Sasha's. She's been in contact with Frase apparently, `cos she gives me one of those looks and piles my plate high with lasagne. 

"Hey!" I exclaim when I bight into it, "Just like Ma Vecchio's." 

"I got the recipe from her over the phone the other day, as well as the biscuits," Sasha tells me, "I'll be staying with her when we go to Chicago, provided you look at the boiler, which is making a swashing noise again." 

"Frannie's been fiddling with it," I growl, "She always forgets to reset the temperature controls." 

"Indeed," Frase smiles, no doubt remembering some of our louder arguments in the basement while Ma Vecchio plied him with tea and baking. Sasha smiles too as he tells about the Vecchio family and the way they just adopted him almost straight away. I add a few stories - mainly about the kids in the household and Mr Rose chimes in with stories about their own kids - all grown and moved away to the city and bright lights. Steve adds his exploits with his twin brother and has us howling with laughter by desert, which is Mom's very own sweet potato pie. I get thirds of that and a whole one to take home. 

Frase and Sasha volunteer to wash up and I take out my new carving knives to continue on with my carving of Dief. Steve and Mr Rose start talking about curling - of all things - and leave me to it. Something is going right for me tonight because not only do I get it finished, it actually looks like what I started out to make. He's in the traces, caught running forever with that flick of the paws I came to know so well. When Dief runs like this the sled is perfectly balanced, on a good surface and the dogs are eager. He ran like this for Ben, and once or twice for me. The post's team leader will run like this for me, all eager and balanced. I smile at the sculpture, rub some oil in and put it to one side to start on the next - a sculpture of Ben on guard duty. I've got just the right piece of wood for that and can see it clearly in my minds eye. 

"Oh Ray," Ben's voice is soft as he picks up my sculpture of Dief. We left him in the post tonight as Sasha doesn't let wolves in the house and he sulks if he has to sit on the back step. At least in the post he'll be warm and fairly comfortable. 

"Worked out ok, huh?" I grin up at him before concentrating on my new piece. This one is flowing real smooth, and Mr Rose comes over to look at Dief before settling nearby again to watch me work and talk to Ben and Steve. Sasha comes in with slice, hot chocolate and coffee, the last of which she sits by my chair and then goes to snuggle with Mr Rose, joining in when she wants to. I let their voices flow past me like a river while the knife moves exactly the way I want it to for once. His boots come out neatly, then the strong legs and funny jodhpurs, followed by the serge and Sam Browne. He's standing with his hands behind his back, and I curl his hands a little, the way they used to after a long stretch at the duty. I couldn't believe it when I first saw him doing this. I'd been warned about it and decided not to tease him, just sat on the nearby bench and waited, telling him about the latest on the case we were working. Later, he told me that Vecchio used to get angry and yell when he didn't reply or blink in response. 

I make his face impassive - the carefully held expression that was more like repose than a mask. The Stetson is last and I make sure to get it just right - Ben is very particular about how his Stetson sits. I rub some oil into that one as well and toss it over to Mr Rose before packing up the knives. He catches it without breaking verbal stride in the current debate about Canadian politics - I stay well out of that, even if I am naturalised to the country thanks to Turnbull. 

He finishes making his point and then looks at the statue in his hand. Sasha notices he's not listening to her as she shoots him down and stops mid word when she sees what he has in his hand. 

"It's the Sergeant!" her exclamation has Ben leaning over to get a better look and Steve crowds in too as I stand and stretch, moving away. 

"It's incredible," Steve says quietly and I look back to see it standing on the coffee table, "You've captured Sergeant Fraser perfectly." 

My Ben doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to - it's all there in his eyes. 

* * *

* * *

End Mechanic at Stony Creek by Shedoc:

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